


In for a Penny

by Haumeia (Empatheia)



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Accidental Incest, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Haumeia
Summary: Alternate version of the events after Lara brought Harry and a dying Thomas back to the Raith mansion in Blood Rites. Harry POV.





	In for a Penny

**Author's Note:**

> 750words entry from earlier this year, when I was rereading the series and felt like filling in the opportunity avoided due to no-bromo there. Plays fast and loose with canon rules. Canon-picking and concrit even less welcome than usual because this is literally a silly porno knockoff.

" _He'll_ be fine," said Lara. "She won't."

"That's not going to happen," I said, a cold, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. "I'm not locking him in there so he can murder that girl. I wouldn't stand for that even if they didn't care about each other. As it is, waking up to realize he'd murdered Justine would kill him anyway. No."

Lara pursed her lips, irritated. "I promised you safety in my home," she said, "and that is the only reason I am not killing you right now. The only."

I shrugged. "Death threats are a dime a dozen in my line of work, Ms. Raith. Everyone means them. A lot of the people who make them have the power to enforce them. If you try, I'll fight back, and see how well my luck holds up. Business as usual. I said no, and I meant it. I won't throw the first punch, but I am not going to let this happen."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to volunteer in her place, then?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but someone else got there first.

"It's all right, Harry," said a lovely voice behind me, from the room. I turned to find Justine standing there in a sheer white nightgown, dark eyes calm in her pale face. "Give him to me. I'll look after him."

"You'll _die_ is what you'll do," I snapped.

She smiled at me. "I know."

I gaped at her. She knew? She knew, and she was okay with that? How badly had Thomas mindfucked her, anyway?

"No, listen," I said. "You don't have to die for him. You don't owe him that, however much he helped you. You're a person, not an entree."

That made her laugh. "I know that, Mister Dresden," she said. "I don't know how to convince you, but I'm not being compelled in any way here. This is my choice. I love him."

Lara, beside me now, sucked in a hissing breath through her teeth. "Damn," she snarled. "So that's why he's been avoiding you."

Justine frowned. "What do you mean? I thought he was just being careful not to take too much."

"That too, perhaps," Lara allowed, "if the feeling is mutual. But there's more to it than just that. The touch of someone who loves them, truly, is anathema to a White Court vampire. It burns us like sunlight burns the Black Court. Painful, debilitating. Eventually lethal."

The problem began to dawn on me. My stomach sank a little further. "By which you mean..."

"Yes, Dresden," she said, cold as the heart of winter. "If he tries to feed on her, the Hunger will drive him to his own destruction. He can't use her, and there are no other human beings within reach who can be spared."

"You seem upset," I said coolly, "which is odd, considering."

She shrugged helplessly, anger deflating a little. "I was hoping that if he survived this, I'd have another chance to talk sense into him, and keep both of us alive. I'll choose my own life if I have to, but I meant what I said back in that parking lot, Dresden. I love my little brother. I don't want him dead. I just want to die myself even less."

Justine glared daggers at her, which she ignored.

"Potayto, potahto," I said. "Whatever. What do we do? There has to be a way."

"None that I can see," said Lara, clearly already resigned to digging Thomas' grave.

I wasn't. I couldn't give up on him that easily. I had beef with him, to be sure, and we were going to have a good long talk about it when he was fixed up, but...

I stopped myself. But what? I liked him, yes, but he was a _vampire_. There was blood on his hands. I didn't know about it, I hadn't been there, but there was no way he'd survived all this time and stayed clean. None. The nature of what he was demanded that he harm the people I was pretty damn determined to protect: human beings. Mortals.

I liked him, but that didn't account for what was going on inside me at the moment, when I thought about him dying. It hurt. Way more than it should have.

There _had_ to be a way.

"There might be one," Justine said softly. "I can't be sure it would work, though, fair warning. It might just end with both of us dead."

"I'm listening, Justine," I said, hope flaring cautiously in my chest.

She explained.

I hesitated.

Thomas stirred in Lara's arms, shuddering, and a wave of Hunger pulsed out through our bodies. Lara shivered, faintly, and Justine and I both found ourselves on our knees.

I met her eyes. Not quite long enough for a soulgaze, but almost. I saw her desperation to save Thomas, her fear that it would fail, but no fear for herself.

"Dammit," I muttered. "I'm never going to live this down, am I."

She furrowed her brows. "What? Saving your friend's life?"

"No, the rest of it," I said with an expansive gesture, grimacing. "Oh well. I've had worse. Let's do this thing."

Lara's eyebrows had climbed halfway off her forehead. "You're serious?" she asked. "You would do this? Knowing what the consequences could be?"

I sighed heavily. "Yeah," I said. "I guess I would."

She thought for a moment. Then she said "I retract my earlier words. I hope you survive, Dresden. You're... better than I expected. On several levels."

Flushing, I ducked my head. "Thanks," I said, "though I'm not sure I want to know what you mean by that."

"Harry," Justine said, tugging on my sleeve, her eyes fixed on Thomas. "We're out of time. Come on."

Lara led the way into the room, dropping Thomas somewhat unceremoniously on the vast white-silk bed. Justine rummaged through a massive wardrobe, eventually coming out with something almost absurdly modest. It would cover every inch of her but her hands and face, and she was already pulling out a pair of gloves for the former. Her face she would just have to be careful about.

Thomas stirred a little more, milk-white eyes blinking open. I made sure I was in front of them.

I've always considered myself to be one hundred percent straight. One of that boring majority who only got the hots for those they're supposed to get hot for. Certainly, when I thought back over the people I'd been into over the years, it was a sea of female faces.

If I was being really honest with myself, though -- and I kind of had to be right now, to make this work -- there were a few faces in there that stood out from the rest.

John Marcone featured most prominently, to my eternal chagrin, but there were a few others. Guys who had given me the tingles, even just a little.

Thomas was in there too, second only to Marcone, and only second because I wasn't sure how much of what he'd made me feel was real and how much was White Court whammy. At least some was real, though, I knew that for certain. I knew because I'd felt it even when he wasn't around. Fondness. Affection. Curiosity. Other things, too; darker things.

Thomas made a moaning sound of pain and need and reached out weakly towards me. He wasn't going to have the strength to do this _to_ me and take it out of my hands. I was going to have to be proactive about it. 

Crap.

Justine waited in the wings, every line of her body yearning towards Thomas. It wasn't safe yet, though. It wouldn't be, until I made it safe.

"Hey," I said softly. "This is weird for me, so sorry if I make a hash of it, but I'm here. It's okay." I reached out and met his hand halfway, lacing my fingers through his.

His skin was cold as ice. It almost burned to the touch, but I made myself hold on.

Immediately, I felt the feeding begin, just a trickle of my energy sapped out through the point of contact. I forced my fear down. It was going to get a lot more intense than this in a minute, and I had to keep control of myself.

When he pulled at me, trying to drag me closer, I went. He wrapped himself around me like a wild thing as soon as I was close enough, and I lost track of the rest of the world a bit.

I'd always felt his pull, from the moment I'd first seen him on Bianca's doorstep. Some part of me had always known that this was possible for me. Vaguely knowing that and actually giving in to it were entirely different things, though. I hadn't been at all prepared for this.

Thomas' hands were inside my shirt, his mouth sucking hungrily at mine, and I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of lust. It didn't lose out in comparison to what I'd felt with Susan that last time, when I'd had her chained up. Desire so consuming and sharp all I could think of was slaking it, like gasping for air.

So I kissed Thomas back, as thoroughly as I'd ever kissed anyone, and I stripped off his bloodied shirt, and I helped him with mine. When I pressed my whole torso to his, he moaned again, this time in relief. My energy soaked into him, from my skin into his, and he got a little warmer.

"Thomas," whispered Justine, easing herself onto the bed.

"Justine," he mumbled. "Can't."

"It's all right," she said, caressing his upper arm with two gloved fingers. "I promise."

He didn't flinch, and upon realizing how she was dressed, he visibly relaxed a little. "Careful," he said.

It was the most he could manage. He was still much more monster than man, and his hips were rolling up against mine in an extremely distracting way.

Cursing, I turned my attention to our pants, while Justine curled herself around his upper body. She whispered soothing nothings in his ear, stroking his face and hair and arms. He closed his eyes and leaned into her, for all appearances on the verge of tears.

When I took him in my hand, pants disposed of, he cried out and jerked, and the flood of mojo that came rolling off him nearly wiped out what few faculties I had left upstairs. "Jesus," I gasped, "Thomas."

Unable to bear the tension in my own groin, I wrapped one of my conveniently long-fingered hands around both of us, pressing us together. I collapsed on top of him a little, just keeping my back arched enough to give my hand room to move. His arms encircled me, and then his legs, too, and it wasn't really possible to get any closer to him than this.

My energy was leaving me like a towel being wrung out, but I didn't care at all. I felt so good I would have died happily in that moment. Better way to go than most.

Carefully, praying under her breath, Justine pulled off one of her gloves and laid it on my bare shoulder.

I drew on her. It was easy, in the state I was in, with all the energy already moving around. I just brought her into the circle that was Thomas and me and made her energy available.

Thomas drew a deep, shuddering breath and reached up to tangle his hand in her hair. She leaned over him, inches away, but didn't kiss him. They both keened in frustration.

So I leaned up a bit, taking advantage of my height, and kissed Justine for a long, long moment, taking her in. Then I leaned down and gave it to Thomas, secondhand. Justine cradled both our heads, encouraging, full of love and therefore ironically prevented from demonstrating it.

Pressed between us, Thomas began to tense up, his breathing losing all rhythm and turning to gasps and moans. I was in about the same place, so I closed my eyes and focused on taking us both up and over.

It didn't take long.

A bare moment after the last of his convulsions eased, Justine carefully stroked one fingers down the side of his face.

He didn't flinch.

Tears of relief welling up in her eyes, she leaned over and began pressing kisses all over his face. He reached up blindly to caress her clavicles, her throat, before finding her face and curving a hand around the fine line of her jaw.

His ravenous body was already gearing up for a second course, I noticed. It occurred to me — far too late — that I didn't actually know whether the combined energies of two people would be enough to slake his Hunger without killing either. In for a penny, though...

And I was in already in for considerably more than pocket change. 

So, when he rolled over to bury his face in Justine's midriff, hands searching for the fastenings of her incongruously modest dress, I didn't get up and leave, even though I probably could have without reproach. 

I stayed, and ran a hand over his damp, trembling back, and wondered how much more would be asked of me.

Wondered, too, if I'd have the strength to say no if and when it finally became necessary.

Justine met my eyes over that glorious head of dark curls and smiled gratefully. She wouldn't say no however necessary it became. She would say yes as long as she had the breath left to say it.

In the face of determination like that, how could I take the coward's way out?

Answer: I couldn't.

So I stayed, and realized I no longer cared much about living anything down, so long as he lived.

There was a kind of freedom in that.

**X**  


**Author's Note:**

> No, I won't apologize for that pun. Not like TDF isn't full of bad smutty puns of its own.


End file.
